


Healing

by oncomingstorm13



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, I don't even remember all of it honestly, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Pain, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Regeneration, Telepathy, Yikes, i got very caught up in it, subtle subtext but it's not even on purpose, the master's tardis - Freeform, this is a long one fellas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncomingstorm13/pseuds/oncomingstorm13
Summary: The Doctor receives an urgent call from the Master saying he's close to death and needs help. She reluctantly comes to his aid.
Relationships: The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Theta/Koschei, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Thoschei - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> basically I wanted to write a hurt/comfort fic and pulled in as many of my favorite thoschei tropes as I could :| it got looooong.
> 
> also note: The Master and a few CyberMasters get out of Gallifrey alive. 
> 
> potential triggers: mentions of wounds/injuries, death. lots of angst. 
> 
> warnings: umm. intimacy? possible accidental sexual subtext? I didn't mean to, I swear!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! <3

The Doctor was minding her own business–the business of sitting and staring and thinking about everything and nothing, just on her own for a while and generally brooding in some reluctantly darkening thoughts–when an alert appeared on the TARDIS console.

This was a type alert she hadn't seen in a long, long time. It flashed, but flashed in a sort of spiral shape, throbbing and fading in and out. It was almost meditative to watch, if it wasn't annoyingly overshadowed by long, drawn out alert noises that synchronised with the movement of the slow flashing. 

It was an alert from another TARDIS. And with it came a call, which she had the choice to answer or not. 

Her heartbeats quickened. She hadn't spoken to anyone in a while, lost track of time and lost track of social skills, so that was one thing. But the other thing was the idea of probably facing another Time Lord.

She had lost trust in the Time Lords. There hadn't been much to begin with, frankly, but now it had completely evaporated. The mystery of the Timeless Child was solved and she had rather wished she hadn't learned of it at all. So much was left open now. So many new mysteries, even mysteries she didn't even know of. 

She answered the call, tapping the spot where the alert faded in and out. She may have a whole new dimension to her existence, but she'd be damned if she wasn't still a person that helped people. 

"Hello?" she asked hesitantly, her voice low and tired. 

" _Doctor...please_ ," the voice sounded out of breath. Definitely in danger.

*Who is this?" she asked with more demand in her tone than inquisitivity. "You're hurt?"

The voice sighed heavily, interrupted it with coughing, followed by a small chuckle. 

" _Doctor. It's_ me _."_

Oh, no. Not _you_ again. 

"Master." The Doctor backed away from the console, her body filling with a storming mix of chemicals portraying anger, despair, frustration, and overall, loathing. She sighed, and felt herself gritting her teeth out of old habit, "What do you want?"

He was irritated and impatient with this cold response, she could tell. " _What do you think? I need help."_

The Doctor scoffed and threw her hands up. "Help with _what?_ Do be specific, it does help when your extreme vagueness is very unuseful."

A practical growl from the other side of the call. " _I'm_ hurt. _Alright? I might even be dying."_

"And you want me to do what?"

A grunt of pain from the Master. " _Doctor, just come help me!"_ Even in alleged extreme pain, he could still raise his voice. 

"Last time I saw you, you were ready to destroy me and the entire universe with an army of 'CyberMasters.' Why should I help you?"

There was a pause, a prolonged silence quite unusual when regarding the Master. Then:

The Master's voice was softer now, genuine, weaker.

_"Theta. Please."_

She hadn't heard the word spoken aloud in centuries. Perhaps even a thousand years, perhaps even more. It awoke something in her: something vulnerable, something childlike, something that had always been buried deep and securely in her hearts but she never dared unearth. 

For a couple moments, she listened to the silence that followed, her childhood nickname echoing within it. She listened to his heavy breathing. Something her hearts shifted.

"Send me your coordinates."

  
  


° ° ° 

  
  


His TARDIS was parked right back where she had last seen it upon solid ground: Australia. 

It was still the same on the outside, she noticed. Chameleon circuit must've jammed. The Doctor chuckled at that. Serves him right. 

She approached the door and knocked, cautiously opening it. The inside was not the same as it had been last time. Not a messy front room cluttered with books and papers and various objects; no, this time it was half a front room and half a TARDIS console room not much differently designed from her own albeit darker cluttered with books and papers and various objects. As her eyes scanned the room, she acknowledged sheepishly in the back of her mind that she really had always admired the Master's thirst for knowledge, but she pushed the thought away with reminders of what he'd been known to do with knowledge: use it for power, evil, and his own gain.

"Doctor?" a quiet, straining voice came to her from across the room. The Master was sitting on a sofa chair covered in much of his typical dress, including his plum-colored coat, his plaid waistcoat. He sat with his head upheld by his hand, deep blue sleeves rolled up, his entire body and clothes covered in spots of blood, undoubtedly his own. His brow was shining with a sickly sweat, and he was breathing heavily.

The Doctor shook her head, seemingly pitying him. "Rough day?"

The Doctor heaved what could have been a sigh of relief and replied, "Several." 

She took off her jacket and threw it over his console unit. "Right, looks like I have my work cut out for me." Then, a question struck her. "Don't you have a medbay?"

He shook his head. "No, I–I didn't need it–"

She scoffed."'Didn't need it?' What the hell is that supposed to mean? _Clearly_ you need it now and then."

"I didn't... _want_ it." The Master looked up at her with eyes feigning anger but clearly hiding a long while of suffering. "So I got rid of it."

The Doctor softened. "Oh." She looked at the floor, unable, for a moment, to continue looking into his tortured eyes. "I see. Well. So...where's your sink?"

"My sink?"

"We've got to clean up your wounds before we fix you up. You obviously haven't done much of that yourself–"

"Right, right, don't nag." He pointed to a dimly lit hallway off the side of the room. "It's down that way, on the right."

The Doctor returned with a damp rag, a bowl of soapy water, and a calmer spirit. She hadn't been anyone else's TARDIS in a very long time, much less in the Master's, and in a way, it was a bit humbling. Helping the person whom she had once called friend, who she had such a complex history with, who had betrayed her was confusing and unsettling and humbling as well. She focused her mind on helping. She was just helping someone, doing her duty. Nothing else but that.

Kneeling down beside him, she carefully pulled up his pants leg slightly in order to have better access to the wounds there. She pressed the cold rag to a wound on his upper shin and he flinched, emitting a small noise of surprise.

She looked at him with seriousness in her voice. "You're going to have to sit still for this, I'm sorry. It might sting a bit, your wounds seem very badly infected."

"Never knew you to be a– _mmf!_ –doctor in the medical sense. I'm impressed," the Master said, trying to distract himself from the slight stinging of the rag on his aching wounds. 

"I'm a doctor in many senses, thank you very much," she stated without looking up from her work. 

"I suppose... you always did do well to take care of me," he spoke softly, hesitating in apprehension of what her reaction might be to the sudden reference to their childhood. 

The Doctor was just barely caught off guard by this, and lifted the rag slightly for a brief second, but returned to her washing. She dipped the rag into the bowl of water and adjusted her position so that she could work on a different wound on his other leg.

She chose to ignore his comment and kept dabbing at his leg. "How did you get like this? What happened?"

"The, um, Cyber-situation didn't work out as... _swimmingly_...as I hoped."

The Doctor breathed a small, sarcastic laugh as she began to sting him with more soapy water. "Oh really? Funny how things like that seem to end up that way." 

He went on despite her jabs. "The Cyberium was too strong for me," he heaved a breath, "and I had to let it go. It was killing me just being inside me. Mind _and_ body. And to add to it, when the Cyberium was free from me, the Cybermasters turned on me–they didn't recognize me as leader anymore. Just another being to conquer. Shot at me a couple of times, got me a bit, as you can see, but I got away."

"I see. Your evil plan didn't work out for you. Shocking." The Doctor moved to another wound on his leg, just below the knee. 

There was a pause as the Master took a moment to process the Doctor's words since she came and assess her thoughts. 

"You're– _ow–_ still angry with me, then."

She pulled back from tending to his leg, exasperation flaming on her face. "Of _course_ I'm still angry with you. You destroyed our planet and used its dead population for parts in an army of Cybermen! What in all the universe would make you think I _wouldn't_ still be angry with you?"

She stared into his eyes, and he stared back with something that reminded her of a frightened, timid animal. 

"You came when I asked," he whispered. 

She shook her head, maybe even at herself more than at him. "I came because someone needed help. That's what I always do, no matter who it is."

The Master's voice was alarmingly gentle and genuine. "That's very noble of you."

"Stop it," the Doctor said sternly.

"What?"

"Stop _that_...messing with me. I'm tired of it."

"You think I'm joking?" He let out a weak laugh. "Doctor, I have no energy for jokes at the moment. I barely even have enough for sarcasm. For the first time in a _very_ long while, I mean every word I say."

She stole a glance at him, half to search for hints of lying on his face, half because she was again caught off guard by his words. He wasn’t acting very much like himself today. She guessed that’s what happened when you go through what he’d been through: the walls of your personality come crashing down. 

She knew the feeling. 

She finished washing the wounds on his lower legs, then hesitated. On his trousers, much blood had soaked through a spot on his upper thigh.

"We're going to have to, um...move some clothing now," she said, obviously a bit uncomfortable but also concerned for his own comfort. "Is that alright?"

The Master cleared his throat. "Yes. Of course. I mean–Doctor, you don't have to–"

"It's alright," she saved him from his stuttering worry. "I'm not bashful. And it's really not a big deal, anyway. Just cleaning you up, part of the job."

"You've got to do what you've got to do," he said, a sheepish smile appearing and then quickly fading. "But, uh, I'll do it. The moving of the...clothes."

With slow movements due to his body's exhaustion and several centers of pain, he carefully pulled down the side of his trousers where the wound in question was. Thankfully, he was in loose briefs underneath that ended just above the wound's spot, so he didn't feel that he was revealing too much and the Doctor didn't feel that much was being revealed to her.

The Doctor sat higher on her knees and let out a breath as she held the rag in her hand, hesitating. 

"You really don't have to if you're not comfortable–"

"It's _okay_ ," she said in exasperation and touched the rag to the wound. "So long as you behave," she eyed him. 

He winced at the contact. "I promise. No mischief from me today."

It was closer than they had been in a long, long time. Willingly, anyway. She couldn’t remember the last time she had helped him like this, in such a mortal, physical way. Perhaps it was last on Gallifrey, the Gallifrey they had loved as children. The Gallifrey before the Time War and before all of the Master’s evil plans and before everything they had been through. Before the incidents with the Lone Cyberman and the CyberMasters. Before the Timeless Child discoveries.

Oh, how she missed all those “before” times. 

The Master was squirming a little now, ever so slightly. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. The water she was using was so very cold, and the combination of its sting, the painful, biting ache of the wound itself, and the fact that all of such was occurring in such a sensitive area of his body was almost unbearable. But he grit his teeth and clenched his fist with what little energy he had left. He didn’t want to irritate her when he was already so grateful for her coming at all. “Sorry,” he muttered.

The Doctor finished and pulled away. “Alright, bottom half is done. Are you able to um, cover yourself back up again?”

The Master thought that it was the last thing he wanted to do, letting that rough, heated fabric create friction against the painful spot again, but he knew it would only be for a little while, and that she would _not_ be too keen to move forward in helping him with his trousers half down. 

He groaned as his hands moved toward his waistband. “I think so.” He flinched, as he felt the fabric graze the wound, but he was successful. He dropped his hands. “Oh, I’m so exhausted.”

“I bet,” the Doctor remarked as she wet the rag again and moved to work on a bloody spot on his elbow. She didn’t ask to move his sleeve, just did so. She was in almost full concentration now. 

Almost.

She had been thinking for a couple minutes about asking him things that had been lingering on her mind ever since she saw him last. Questions that had haunted her, that she wanted to ask so badly but didn’t know if he had survived, and if he had, didn’t know if she wanted to give her betrayer such satisfaction. 

But here they were: him in pain, trusting her, and her giving in to her instincts to just _help_ . Even if it was the Master. _Especially_ since it was the Master, a quiet, bothersome, shameful voice in her head said. 

What was the point of holding back now?

“Why did you really destroy Gallifrey?”

The Master, whose head had been laid back and eyes closed in rest, lifted his head in shock at the sudden question. “What?”

“You destroyed Gallifrey and the Time Lords supposedly because you were angry with the secrets they had kept. With the anger that…” she looked down at her task. “The anger that part of me was in you. But I think there’s something else.”

“I…” he shook his head. “No. No, I don’t believe so.”

She only made a face. Something of unbelieving, and maybe even disappointment. 

He scanned her face. Searching. Trying to read her thoughts. If he had more energy, he’d actually try to do that, try to break into her mind and get something real out of her.

Instead, he despaired at his continuing weakness for the Doctor. It always was that, wasn’t it? She could just make a face and he’d melt in an instant.

He sighed. “Fine. Fine. I told you I’d mean everything I say. I have no energy for dishonesty.”

“I, of course, truly was angry with the Time Lords. I hated that my whole life, you’ve been seen by the entire universe as something 'special,' even felt that way yourself, it seemed.”

The Doctor protested. “I did not.”

“You definitely did. But anyway. We became enemies over the years, you know that. So discovering that my worst enemy was the reason for my entire existence, well, I went a little insane.”

“You mean more than usual,” the Doctor tried to joke, but inwardly, her heart was sinking. Seeing the Master so vulnerable had allowed her to let her guard down a little, almost remembering old, old feelings she once had regarding him. With that guard down, him speaking about his hatred for her hurt. Badly.

Allowing him to smile a little at that, he continued. “I suppose. But that wasn’t...that wasn’t the _only_ reason I hated the Time Lords.”

“Because you hated them keeping those secrets.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m referring to. Of course, you and I both know how utterly corrupt the Time Lords were. They made the Time War happen, for God’s sake, and so many other horrors. So yes, I hated them, I _hate_ them, but that wasn’t just it.”

The Doctor was reaching to wet the rag again before interrupting him. She looked at his bloodied torso and then looked up at him seriously. “Your shirt.”

“Hmm?” 

She stared straight at him, rag dripping from her hand, waiting for the realization to kick in. 

He stared back, then his eyes lit up. “ _Oh._ Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll just, uh…” He rushed to unbutton his shirt. 

Growing more and more uncomfortable yet more and more used to it by the second, the Doctor decided she needed a distraction in order to proceed. “What were you saying, about not just hating the Time Lords?”

“Um…” The Master was having trouble talking and moving at the same time. Not a great sign. He finished unbuttoning, feeling rather awkward and vulnerable with his chest laid bare but surprisingly relieved at the cool air on his injuries. “Right. Time Lords, yes.”

The Doctor pressed the rag to his chest, and the Master realized this was the worst part of the cleaning process yet. It felt so very strange to have the Doctor so close to him, as well as so painful to have those most severe injuries touched, but he needed to proceed with his confession. It would keep his mind off of it. 

“The reason–” he huffed a breath of discomfort, “–The reason I destroyed them, partially, was–” He shut his eyes, fists clenching once again. “–Was because I was angry that they used you.”

The Doctor suddenly removed the rag from him and looked at him with eyes full of shock. “What?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her with desperation, chest heaving with quickened breaths. “Please keep going. I need this over with.”

Shaking her head, the Doctor asked, “No, what do you mean–”

“Doctor, _please_.”

Reluctantly, she continued.

He shut his eyes again and let his head fall back. “I...I hated what they did to you. Alright? We have a history, Doctor. It may be mostly a bad one, but it wasn’t at the beginning. We used to be friends.”

The Master peeked through his clenched eyelids to see her reaction. There was nothing on her face to show such, but if he looked long enough he could see it in her eyes. Something had shifted in them. She looked more vulnerable, more sad, maybe even scared.

He shut his eyes once again, and felt her move away from his chest. Suddenly, a coolness was on his face, right beside his eye, and he jumped slightly. 

She pulled away again, evaluating his movement. They looked into each other’s eyes briefly, but she focused on cleaning his last wound. 

Finally, she spoke. Quietly, so quiet that it was barely audible. But he heard it.

“What happened to us, Koschei?”

That sent some sorts of chemicals–good, refreshing, healing ones–all throughout his exhausted body. That was practically her responding to the feelings he had been trying to show her. That was maybe her accepting the signs of his repentance, his desire for forgiveness that he hadn’t verbally requested yet but was trying so hard to achieve. 

_That_ was a step forward in the right direction. 

He breathed a long sigh, his body having calmed a bit, and whispered, “I really don’t know, Theta."

The way he pronounced that sent a shiver up her spine which she repressed. There aren't many beings in the universe who understand what it's like to not be called by a name you heard so often as a child for so long, a name that stuck to you like it was your soul. The Doctor and the Master knew that feeling. It had been like not being truly known for an insufferably long time, so to hear one another pronounce each's two syllables so deliberately, hearing the words dance off each other's tongues like sparks, it was a relief of the hearts. 

Silence lingered in the air for a while. Nothing filled it save the occasional hitched breath or pained groan from the Master. 

"All done with that," the Doctor eventually said. She stood up, picked up the bowl and placed the rag in it. "Now for the actual medication."

"And what do you recommend, physician?" The Master chuckled as he slowly attempted to force his tired fingers to re-button his shirt. 

She allowed a smile, then frowned. "Actually, I'm not sure. Didn't think that far ahead yet. I was so concerned with the state of you that I jumped right to making sure your injuries were clean first and didn't give the next part much thought. Any ideas?"

The Master shook his head. His head was a bit too foggy from pain and exhaustion to think very hard, anyway. "None." 

The Doctor's face filled with thought for a moment, then she asked, gently, "Regeneration?"

"All up, I assume. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have needed to call you."

"All up? I thought the Time Lords gave you more in the Time War–?"

"I suspect they might not have given me as many as they said. I heard once that you can feel it in every cell of your being when your regenerations are up and you're about to die." He smiled sadly. "I believe that's what I'm feeling now."

The Doctor's brow furrowed. No, she wasn't going to just let him die like this. This was no way to die. The Master could never really die, she thought. He'd always been in the universe, in _her_ universe especially, a fixed and expected point. No, she would not let that happen to him.

"You've got that thinking face on," he spoke with a light-hearted tone of warning. "I don't like that face too much. Usually means something bad for me, typically."

Chuckling as she continued to just think and stare, he remarked, "Not all of us can be the _Timeless Child,_ Doctor."

Then she had a couple of ideas.

"We could go to my TARDIS. I have a medbay there, we could fix you up–"

"Do I look like I could even _stand_ at the moment?"

She looked him up and down. Clearly, the answer was no. "Fine, then I'll carry you–"

The Master actually laughed. "Oh, no no no. With that scrawny little body? I don't think that could happen. You're so...tiny."

Growing frustrated, she said, "Could you at least _try_ to work with me here? I'm not going to just let you die. What would be the point of me coming?"

The Master sighed. "To be honest, Doctor, I've been almost expecting to die. I think part of me just called because I wanted to see you...one more time."

Her eyes widened. Oh, no. Not this. She didn't want any more death, not now, not _him_. Not when they had just accepted being around each other again. Not when they were making the smallest ounce of progress in healing. Not when she'd spent all that blasted time cleaning him. 

"I could…" the Doctor looked, with the smallest hint of desperation and maybe even shame, down at her hands. They began to glow gold, and she lifted them slowly toward him. 

"No," the Master roused from his precious exhausted state and instinctively moved away from her. "No! _Absolutely_ not, Doctor. Out of the question!"

"Why not?" she almost whined. She wanted to help him so badly now, and she was angry that he seemed to be accepting his own death. It was just _rude._ "I'm the _Timeless Child_ , aren't I?" she asked bitterly. "I have unlimited regenerations."

"You don't know that."

"Of _course_ I do! You saw what they did to me!" Her hands flew back down to her sides and the golden regeneration energy vanished. "I've regenerated countless times, and they probably wiped my memory so many more times than that."

"For all we know, they did it just the right amount of times. You could have reached your limit. Maybe you have a limit, maybe you don't. But you are _not_ risking that for me." His eyes were alert now, and they were soft with concern and a familiar anger. This time, they both knew, it was an anger at the Time Lords, not her.

The Doctor felt a hot sensation in her eyes. She realized that she had started crying. Unusual. She hadn't done that in so long, hadn't let herself. Maybe hadn't even since she regenerated. But it finally came out now, with the recent horrors from Gallifrey and the Time Lords fresh in her mind as well as the sight of her oldest friend dying overwhelming her. She wiped away the tears with a frustrated quickness. 

"Fine. We're going to do this the old fashioned way, one way or another. You are _not_ dying on my watch."

The Master's hearts ached with something. Was it guilt? Maybe just appreciation? _Deep_ admiration? Maybe all of the above. After all he'd done to her, all he'd made her see and all the evil he'd imposed on her and her beloved universe in the past, the Doctor was still helping him. She was _saving_ him. He didn't know whether to laugh from complete and utter gratitude or cry from admiration and heart-wrenching guilt. 

The Doctor began pacing, formulating a plan. "I'm going back to my TARDIS. I'm going to get a few things from the medbay, maybe even pop to Earth really, _really_ fast." She turned to him with a grave expression. "I need you to sit tight and hand on with all your strength for just a little while longer. Got that?"

He nodded reluctantly, looking away from her intense gaze. 

With growing determination, she approached him where he sat slumped in his chair, put one hand on it's arm and the other on his cheek. She now had his full attention. 

" _Got that_?" she repeated, eyes wild.

The Master nodded furiously. "Yes ma'am."

As she walked away and out the door, the Master noticed he had suddenly felt a little more energized, his whole body a little more at ease. The Doctor must've scared something healing out of him, he supposed.

The real reason was because when she had intimidated him and put her hand on his cheek, she snuck a little bit of regeneration energy into him, releasing it from her hand without him realizing. Hardly anything, just enough to keep him going. Just a precaution.

  
  
  


° ° ° 

  
  


Several minutes later, the door of the Master's TARDIS swung open, and the Doctor stood stormed in with several medicinal objects in her arms. 

"I think these will work," she declared, setting them all down on a nearby table. "Some of them, at least. Hopefully one."

"Your bedside manner is impeccable, Doctor," teased the Master.

"Do you want me to be positive or so you want me to be truthful?" It wasn't a question.

"The TARDIS suggested some things." She held up a cage with a small creature that looked like a leech, but was much larger, a strange, blue-ish color, and much more frightening-looking. "This is from New Earth. Bunch of cat nurses trying a bunch of things out. Malpractice, yes, but they made a few good discoveries. What do you think?"

"I think if you let that thing anywhere near me I will die from fright alone!" he complained. "What even is that?"

"A laser leech," she shrugged. "Specifically bred to suck out infected blood in wounds caused by lasers."

"Didn't they decide leeches were bad on old Earth?"

"Yes, but like I said this is a _laser_ leech. It's different."

"Not gonna happen."

The Doctor huffed a breath. "Fine. How about this?" She held up a pot of opaque, green, bubbling liquid. It smelled bad.

"What is that?" The Master pinched his nose and eyed the substance carefully. 

"Um…" she let out a nervous laugh. "Not sure actually. Again, from the TARDIS. I trust her."

"You shouldn't."

The Doctor made a face. "What, you don't want this either?"

"Doctor, it's green, _smells_ , and us bubbling, so for one thing, it's clearly very hot and that is _not_ something I want on my injured body right now, and _you_ don't even know what it is!" He pushed the pot away from him. "No thank you. Send the TARDIS my apologies."

She rolled her eyes. "You're hard to please." 

The Master shrugged.

"Okay, this should work," the Doctor said thoughtfully. She was holding a long, thick vial of a clear liquid-like substance. To the Master's relief, it had an actual medical label on it. 

"What is it?"

"Some sort of healing gel. Says it works to disinfect then slowly repairs cells. Seems like a miracle solution to me."

"You think it could work?"

"Worth a shot," she shrugged. She looked at the label again. "Oh."

"'Oh,' what?" He didn't like when she said that. Not anymore at least. 

"It was...made on Gallifrey."

The Master sighed. "Well. At least we know it's probably efficient. You know how those Gallifreyans love staying alive as long as they possibly can."

Nodding in agreement, the Doctor took off the large cap on the vial and sniffed it, making a face. "Ooh. That's not too pleasant," she held it out to the Master.

He sniffed it and made the same face, but said, "At least it's a bit better than the green stuff." 

"The warnings say that it may hurt a bit. You okay with that?"

"It already hurt just cleaning the wounds. What's a little more?"

In reality, he hated the idea of a little more. It had been a trial enough already, and now there was more? He wasn't sure how much more he could take. 

At least she'd be gentle as she could. He knew that for certain.

The Doctor went back down the hall for a moment to wash her hands. She thought about how this next part would be even more difficult than before. She didn't want to tell the Master this, but she'd seen that healing gel used before. It worked wonders, yes, but when first applied, the gel caused excruciating pain. It would heal him, but first it would hurt.

She'd have to be his strength now.

Returning to the Master, she suddenly realized how much she wished she had some gloves. Not only for his own sanitary protection, but for their mutual comfort. This was already a very odd, awkward experience, and it was only going to get worse. Oh well. Just something they'd have to do.

Sitting down next to the Master with the vial in her hands, the Doctor prepared herself mentally, then began to prepare the Master.

"Okay. First, I'm going to need you to move aside some of your clothing again. Is that okay?"

He nodded, but looked uncertain. "Yes, but um...might need some help…" She followed his gaze to see his hands were trembling as he put forth much effort simply trying to lift them. 

"Alright, well, save your energy. You're going to need it. I can do it."

"No, I can–"

"Koschei," she said sternly, snapping her head toward him, staring into his worrying eyes intently. "At the moment, I am your doctor. It's _okay_. I'm not embarrassed, and you don't need to be either." She moved her hand toward his shirt buttons first. "I don't think I need to remind you that you're in pain, so I'm going to help you. May I?"

The Master nodded again and watched her thin hands undo his shirt. He realized, after a moment, that he had been ever so slightly holding his breath. He shouldn't do that, he thought, but with her hands so close to him, it was reflexive. He hadn't been so intimately close to someone in so long, his body wasn't used to it. It had been even longer since he had been so close to her, so the reaction was doubly intense. 

The Doctor finished unbuttoning and spread his shirt apart, then moved her hand toward his waist. She looked at him with questioning eyes, as if waiting for an answer.

"Can't we just do one thing at a time?" The Master almost whined. "Isn't what you did when you washed the injuries?"

The Doctor shook her head. "We're going to need to do this quickly. Your body is obviously rapidly failing you, and if we do it all at once, you can heal faster and at the same rate."

"Fine," he said, this time looking away in embarrassment. He didn't want to watch this, it was too strange, and he felt so helpless. Almost ashamed, even, that he couldn't do such a simple task himself. 

The Doctor wasn't too pleased herself, but she focused her mind on what she needed to do. Get his wounds exposed to the air so that the gel would dry and work quicker, then actually apply it. Deal with the side effects that occur.

"Thank you for your cooperation," the Doctor said kindly, really meaning it. She was glad he wasn't being his usual self, otherwise he would have made several comments, rude or inappropriate, which would have made the task even more difficult. "Now comes the hard part."

"What do you mean?"

She paused, choosing her words carefully. "This is going to hurt quite a bit. It's going to fix you up very quickly afterwards, but until then, I need you to be very strong. It's going to hurt like hell."

The Master nodded, expression a mix of fear and aggravation, but somehow, acceptance as well. "Will you help me?"

"I'll be right here the whole time, won't I?" she assured him.

The Doctor carefully poured some of the vial's substance onto two of her fingers. "I'm going to countdown from three, then I'll start with your chest. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Three, two, one." She did as she said.

Two seconds in, the Master began shouting.

"Oh my _God!_ Oh _God_ , that _hurts_!" His eyes were already strained shut again and his chest was heaving with hitched breaths. 

The Doctor's brow furrowed but she continued to spread the gel over the wound. 

" _Aa-AAH!_ " The Master cried out in pain. His body convulsed and he bucked into the air slightly. It burned him. All the soreness and stinging he had felt thus far was a picnic compared to the searing, blinding pain he felt now. He forgot everything else that had happened this afternoon and only thought of pain.

"I'm sorry, but you need to stay still," the Doctor declared as she tried to steady him with the hand that was on his chest. 

"Stay–still?" The Master attempted between scattered breaths. "How can I do that when–when my body's only instinct is to get away from this–this _shit?_ "

"Language."

"Ha!" he laughed bitterly. "Don't you ' _language_ ' me, devil-woman!"

"You really want to insult me when I hold your life in my hands?"

He groaned but agreed with reluctance. "Fine!"

She moved to his arm next, holding his wrist and pressing the gel down.

" _Oh-oh-oh_ oh no– _no_!" His arm instinctively tried to jerk away from her touch, but she held tight as it jerked her with it. Right, that was enough. 

She moved her hand down to his, lacing her fingers through his. Suddenly, he slowed in his jerking movements. He opened his eyes and looked down at their interlocked hands. But she tried to be professional, paying no mind to it and simply used her other hand to squeeze more gel out onto the arm wound and throwing it aside to rub it in.

His senses confused, he squeezed her hand this time but still tried to pull his arm away, shouting out. " _Fuck!_ Ohh, God, that hurts!" 

“You need to stop moving.”

“I _can’t!_ ” The Master’s voice cracked as he cried out in desperation. “Please, please stop-- I think I’d rather die than _this!_ ” 

The Doctor halted and scanned his face, more concerned than ever. He was still writhing in pain, eyes blinking frantically in response to it, and they were welling with tears. She hadn’t seen the Master cry since his last regeneration...at least, the one she had met in her last one. Like then, she hated being the one to make him hurt like this, but it was necessary.

A strange desire overcame her as she watched him. She wished she had three hands: one to apply the medicine, one to hold his hand, and one to caress his face and soothe him. She’d simply have to alternate these actions.

She also had an idea. 

“Koschei,” she said calmly, pulling her clean hand from his to bring it to his face. “Do you remember what we did as children when one of us would have frequent nightmares?” 

His chest heaving with repeated breaths and his forehead shining even more now with the sweat of someone fighting so much pain for so long, he tried to turn to look at her, caught off guard by her gentle touch. "What–what do you mean?"

"We'd connect minds, remember?" The Doctor traced her fingers just around his jawline, careful to avoid the wound on his face. She felt very tender toward him now, as though she were comforting a child. "So the other could be with them even while sleeping. So the dreams wouldn't be as bad."

His eyes danced from one point of focus to another, trying to decipher what she was saying. Then, widening eyes. "Oh, you mean–?"

"Yes. It would help ease your pain a little, or at least give the illusion of it."

The Master nodded quickly. "Yes. Alright." 

"Remember to shut any doors, okay?"

"Right," he answered. Not like there was much left to hide, anyway. She'd seen him at his weakest, she'd seen all the evil he'd done. She knew almost everything, and yet she was still here.

Then, a voice in his head. It had the echo of her own, feminine voice, but something about the core of it was a combination of all the versions of the Doctor he had ever known. And Theta, too. 

_Contact?_

Hesitation, then a confident reply. _Contact._

And beautifully, specifically chosen parts of their minds merged, a feeling they had been unable to match in centuries. It was different when they had done this earlier, way back in the midst of World War II and more recently, on Gallifrey. Those times, it was all animosity, about winning. This time, it was cautious trusting, and about reducing the Master's pain. 

The Master's breathing slowed, for now, as his mind shifted focus from his own frantic, pain-centered thoughts to her mind's presence. It wasn't that the pain would be gone. It was that she would be a pleasant distraction as well as a shoulder to lean on. 

In her own mind, the Doctor closed a few doors. She wasn't ready to have absolute trust just yet, because there were still some things they would need to work on before that would happen. But she kept her energy positive and supportive for him. A reminder that at the very least, she was someone there to help. Maybe even a friend. 

_Are you ready to continue_? she asked. 

_Yes. Thank you._

She opened her eyes, still very aware of his presence in her mind and hers in his, and poured the medicinal gel on her fingers. Time for the other arm. 

She rubbed in the gel and immediately felt a sharpness through their minds, a kind of mental pain that gave the illusion of real pain. She wanted to reach for the same spot on her own arm, but restrained herself. _It's not real, she_ thought from behind one of the closed doors. _Focus_.

She could sense a cloud from his mind, a dark one that covered much of the mental space. It was starting to creep into hers as she sensed him flinch and watched his eyes shut again. She had to keep going, and quickly. 

_Alright?_ she asked, her voice echoing in his mind, bouncing off the cloud.

_Barely. But a bit better than before_.

She had to hurry. Next was a leg wound, and she started on the one on his shin. Again she rubbed the medicine on it, and again a sharp pain went through her mind and a burning sensation was on her same shin. The connection had grown stronger, so she would begin to feel more and more everything he felt. 

" _Aaah_!" The Master groaned aloud, and clenched a tight fist. The Doctor instinctively reached for it as she simultaneously reached for him in their joined minds. As their fingers intertwined, a sort of light from her shone through his dark clouds. Colors combined and merged into new ones, and they both felt a little calmer as she paused, watching it happen and waiting for the pain to fade a little. 

_We're more than halfway there, you're doing well._

_As are you, Theta._

As she used her free hand to put the substance on his other leg's wound–a little carelessly now that she _literally_ had so much else on her mind–she began to hear quiet but clear thoughts he had forgotten to hide. They were quite distracting:

_...Theta oh Theta oh my Theta.._

_...I don't deserve her I don't deserve this I don't deserve anything…_

_...it's all my fault it's my fault it's mine it's my fault…_

.. as well as several pain-induced strings of Gallifreyan cursing she hadn't heard for ages. 

Her lower legs aching from imaginary wounds, she forced herself to continue, legs shaking and hands beginning to tremble from the bodily shock, she quickly poured–perhaps a little too much– ointment on the wound on his leg and tried to more gently rub it in, her fingers careful and respectful. 

With strangled noises escaping his throat, Master's upper body lunged forward, seemingly trying to clench some pain away from the central wound. Though the connection in their minds allowed for her to take some of the pain away, to stifle it, it still burned and stung and ached more than ever, and the sensitive location combined with such made his entire body writhe. The Doctor, who had just barely been sitting next to him on the sofa, felt echoes of all of this flash like lightning through her mind and sent lightspeed-fast signals through her nervous system until it struck her with the power of muffled thunder on her own upper thigh. Her core muscles tightened in the same way his had and she fell to the floor a little, catching herself on her knees. 

It took them a moment to recover from this one. Outwardly, only strained, incoherent noises and heavy breaths escaped them. In their minds, they were speaking frantically.

_Theta, you shouldn't have done this. This was my pain. {Oh, Rassilon and all the wretched Time Lords, this hurts.}You shouldn't have–_

_Stop it, you could have died without this. {No, no, no aaaahh.}_

_I'd rather {fuck!} have that than you sacrifice your own health for me._

_{Ngh, how can this be hurting_ me _so much?} I don't care._

After a few moments of waiting for the initial burning to pass, the Doctor pushed herself up to sit next to the Master again and put the medicine on her fingers one more time.

_Last one. Face. Ready?_

_Thank any god or devil out there. Yes._

She carefully smoothed the last of it over his wound, mirroring him by shutting the eye closest to it and the other one almost closing as they felt the burn of it. It didn't feel as bad this time, possibly because the bond had strengthened just enough to take the pain equally off both of them. A bit too late, but oh well. 

They waited for that final pain to fade, and they both sighed. They opened their eyes to look at each other fully. 

"Well. That was excruciating," remarked the Doctor, smirking a bit.

"You're telling me," responded the Master.

Suddenly, they both felt an overwhelming but wonderful relief settle over each point of the Master's wounds on their bodies. It felt like a coolness and a soothing warmth at the same time, and compared to the intense pain they had both just experienced, it was bliss, euphoria, ecstasy. And since they were both feeling it, it was almost doubled.

They both sighed again, louder, more happily, with little high giggles of relief. 

"Doctor, you didn't tell me there was an _amazing_ side effect," the Master laughed. 

"It's the healing. First comes the storm, then…oh, then the _good_ part."

And the Doctor thought she heard an embarrassing little sound from the Master.

"Did you just–?"

The Master laid his head back, closing his eyes with a blissful, wicked smile spreading across his face. "Remember, love, we're still connected, so I don't think you need to ask me anything."

She focused her mind on his and saw obscene things floating there. 

The only thing she dared process was his mind saying " _just as good as sex_ " too often for her comfort. 

"Oh, you _disgusting_ thing!" The Doctor made a face and hit his arm. "I just worked quite hard to heal you, save you from the point of death, and all you can think about is comparing your healing to _that_?"

"You know, you'd think it would hurt, you smacking a deadly wound on my arm, but I really can't feel a single bad thing right now," he chuckled. "And hey, if you don't want to be there, don't be there."

"Alright, I won't be then," she said, and he felt her start to withdraw from his mind.

_Theta, wait._

She stared at him, and he lifted his head to stare back. They listened so intently to the echo of each other's inward voices that they could almost hear each other's physical heartbeats.

_What?_

_Thank you. For absolutely everything. For helping me, for forgiving me, for–_

_Who said I've forgiven you?_

The Master's heart dropped.

_Oh._

_Wait, no. Stop making that face. I'm starting to, I promise. I'm just not completely there yet, and didn't want to give you false hope._

She reached out a hand to caress his cheek. 

_If you really care, you'll get there soon enough. I forgive. It's what I do, because I know what it's like to not forgive yourself._

He lifted a hand with slowly returning energy to place it softly on hers. 

_I-I know. I'll try. I promise._

She sat closer to him and pressed her head to his. She could feel the shock in him, and almost laughed. 

_I really have missed you, Koschei. Are you coming back to me?_

His eyes fluttered closed, then hers. 

_I believe I am, Theta. I've missed you terribly._

And they sat like that for a long time, enjoying the intermingling of each other's thoughts and the warmth of each other's breath. 

They were healing.


End file.
